


An Invitation

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe, F/M, alernate universe- mob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2243697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Special Agent Phil Coulson receives a tip from an anonymous source, little does he realize the meeting he's about to make will involve an offer he'll be hard pressed to refuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the Philinda AU challenge on Tumblr. So there's very little resemblance to the universe we're accustomed to, but if this does continue...I promise there's a method to my madness.

She was at the bar when he walked in- long, tanned legs and feet strapped into shoes so black they were nearly lost in the shadows. He'd first noticed the pearls around her neck, glistening under the light that shone from behind a display of liquor bottles and polished glasses, and when she'd turned her face in his direction he remembered wondering if she'd noticed him staring. If she'd laughed at him from behind her own glass, full of sparkling pink and twists of lemon as yellow as the sun.

“Melinda May.” She sipped casually from the glass before setting it down, offering a hand that he took in his as he slid up onto a stool at her side. “It's a pleasure. I've heard so much about you.”

“How do you know that I'm-”

“My people are very resourceful, Mr. Coulson. I knew what you had for breakfast this morning before you paid your bill. Raisin toast isn't something most people order these days.” He couldn't take his eyes off of her, though he was unsure as to whether it was the way she filled the cowl-necked navy blue dress she wore, or the way her voice held a slight edge to it even as she spoke such innocuous sentences. “I've been told you have certain skills in your repertoire I may find useful, and I was hoping we may come to a mutual agreement regarding your particular skill set.”

“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about.” He waved at the bartender, gestured to a bottle of scotch on the shelf and nodded as it was poured into a glass and pushed in his direction.

“Scotch on the rocks. I had a feeling you were a man of simple tastes.” May sipped again from her glass and he watched as her lipstick stained the edge, darkening a preexisting smudge. Something in his mind triggered the image of her, naked in his bed, and with it he could see the same lipstick smudged in perfect red prints along his arm as he pulled her close. He wondered if she would go to bed with him, eventually, or if someone like Melinda May would ever even consider such a thing. She was powerful, the head of a family no ordinary man wanted to cross, and he knew as well as anyone she could rule the world if she tried.

“It doesn't pay to be complicated,” He replied, and she smiled.

“Your life certainly indicates that you lean away from any complication, yourself.” Her fingers tapped the bar top steadily, a rhythm his brain connected to classic rock, in concert with the faint sound of 'Runaway Train' playing somewhere from within the dim space. “Let me get to the point, Mr. Coulson. I control a certain...aspect...of the city, and I have an interest in quite a few areas that I feel would benefit from my influence. You're the agent heading several key investigations for the bureau, and I feel that your skill set could be somewhat of an asset for me.”

“I don't see how, Miss...”

“Please,” She smiled again, white teeth suddenly predatory behind the perfect red lips. “Call me Melinda. Or May, if you prefer. We don't need to stand on ceremony, Coulson. I think we could be friends, you and I.”

“As I was saying, I don't think I can be of much help.”

“That's where I think you may be wrong.” Her fingers slid through his,, tangled into them and squeezed seductively. He wondered if that was how she managed to keep the men in her employ under control; or if she used it as a front, had means at her disposal to take them all down in a single move. Women like Melinda May, he'd learned, were dangerous in that they were underestimated. “Mr. Coulson- Phil- the targets of your investigations are a certain brand of people who control parts of this city I'd very much like to place under my protection. For their own safety, you understand, and the people you hunt possess funds that currently keep their controlling interests afloat. Were those funds to find their way into my hands...an opportunity would open up that I feel I'd have to take advantage of. And I hate to see a missed opportunity. That's where you'd come in.”

“I don't think I can help you.”

“Now, Phil.” The hand dropped to his knee, and fingers that had once felt smooth and delicate in his own were now a vice, squeezing his kneecap firmly beneath them. In his imagination he could feel it crack, could hear the sound of splintering bone as she crushed it beneath an iron grip. But she smiled again, loosened the fingers and slipped her hand up his thigh to gently caress the soft cotton of his pantleg. “I'd like to ask you to consider it, to open your mind to the benefits an arrangement like this might bring to both of us. Just...promise you'll think about it and get back to me.”

He swallowed the rest of the scotch with a grimace, felt it burning his throat even as her steady gaze burned into the side of his face, and he wondered how easily she might destroy him. He hadn't known, when he'd walked in without expectation, that the anonymous e-mail he'd received promising information would be from someone who could turn his life upside down with just a nod of her head in the right direction.

“I'm not the kind of man you're looking for, May. And I'm afraid you'll be going home alone tonight.” He told himself he hadn't misinterpreted the gestures, hadn't misunderstood the way her eyes had shifted from his face to travel downward. The image of her splayed across his fresh cotton sheets still played itself out in his mind, though as he'd become aware of her intentions he'd tried his best to keep the thoughts at bay. In a different world he might have gone with her, might have brought her to his home and taken her to bed with the intention of waking up beside her in the morning. But the head of a mob family was dangerous, and to become involved with her in any way was a risk to his career he wasn't willing to take.

“Good night...Melinda.” She lifted her glass and toasted him silently, eyes unblinking as he began to turn away. He caught sight of her reflection in the glass by the door and for a moment felt like prey, until he passed over the threshold and the door closed between them.

Even as he stood in the cool New York evening, Phil Coulson wondered if it was the last time he would hear from Melinda May. Or if it was the last time he wanted to.


End file.
